


grounding force

by rosekings



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, and it’s a gap fic, angsty fluff, bc i just can’t seem to stay away from those, hello my friends, thomas does a lot of thinking, to sum this up we have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosekings/pseuds/rosekings
Summary: “You alright?”Of course not. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.”“Not what I meant.”“I know.”Thomas closes his eyes and silently thanks whoever’s listening that Newt wasn’t taken in their struggle to escape.





	grounding force

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in the beginning of the Scorch Trials movie, in the itsy bitsy gap between the showers and the lab tests scene. enjoy the product of my sleep-deprived writing kick

**pyrrhic  
adj. _(of a victory) won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor._**

 

They’ve been rescued.

It came at a price that Thomas wishes they never had to pay. The only thing he can take solace in right now is that none of the losses were in vain. The Gladers that ran with him all agreed it was worth it. They did it for themselves, for their friends, and for him, their so-called savior that was going to get them out or die trying. And here they are, free, away from the Grievers and WCKD and the Maze. 

Despite the tightness in his chest and the exhaustion lacing his bones, he feels the sunny relief at having accomplished their goal breaking through the clouds.

It’s Chuck that hurts the most. It all keeps replaying in his head – the gunshot that was meant for him, the spear leaving Minho’s hands, the stunned look on Chuck’s face before he hit the ground. _Thomas. Take it._ He was too young to die at the hands of someone he used to call a friend. _Thank you. Thank you._

Thomas knows it’s going to haunt him for a long time. But he lets the water of the shower wash the blood from his hands – literally and figuratively – and sets aside his grief. He tucks it away so that, when the right time to mourn comes around, it’ll still be there. Right now, he’s going to focus on the good, and on what’s been set in front of them.

They’ve been _rescued._

The helicopter, the sand dunes and decimated cities, the Cranks that chased them towards the enormous complex – it was all terrifying at first. He’s still not entirely sure _who_ their liberators are, but a man named Janson – the Rat Man, as the boys jokingly decided upon as soon as they were out of his presence – gave them food and reassurance and now time under warm running water. He’s not complaining.

After they ate, Rat Man dropped them off at the bathroom and two masked guards escorted Teresa further down the hall, presumably to the girls’ room. Their urgency and clipped voices set off an alarm in the back of Thomas’ mind but he dismisses it now as residual paranoia from his time in the Glade. They’re fine, he tells himself. _We’re fine._

He can’t help but agree with the other boys’ exclamations about the showers. It’s the first one he can ever remember having. From his experience, showers in the Glade amounted to stripping naked, dumping half a bottle of WCKD-issued soap on his head, and having Clint or Jeff spray him at terminal velocity with a hose. It wasn’t the definition of pleasant, but it got the job done. This, a real shower, is the first step towards real healing for all of them, he thinks.

One by one, the sounds of elation and flowing water disappear as the boys finish, change into the clean clothes brought for them, and filter out into the connected room that Janson told them to wait in after washing off. Thomas vaguely remembers a mention of tests and lab checkups. _Just to make sure you’re all healthy,_ Rat Man assured them.

As he scrubs a handful of soap through his hair and across the blood dried to his skin, something that keeps coming back to him is Ava Paige’s last – incredibly puzzling – message. Not even the few memories he regained from puncturing himself with the Griever stinger are sufficient enough to make him feel secure in his knowledge of their situation. Why are they so important? What did she mean when she said their trials had just started? How can he ever believe WCKD is good after what they put him through? His list of questions is endless. _Maybe someone here has some answers._ He almost laughs at the thought; what he wouldn’t give for some solid, honest-to-god answers right about now.

Then there’s Teresa. Beautiful, smart Teresa, who always seems to know more than him and who he thinks is his best friend. In another life, maybe one or the other wanted something more – maybe they _had_ something more – but he doesn’t feel like _that Thomas_ anymore. He doesn’t even have the smallest concept of _that Thomas,_ the Thomas he was before the Maze. He doesn’t really want to. Through bittersweet circumstances he now has a group of friends that he’d fight and kill and die for, and he knows they’d do the same for him.

“Tommy?”

Newt’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and back down to earth, like usual. He’s been standing under the water for so long it’s turned cold, and the silence says he and Newt are the only ones left in the bathroom.

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

_No, of course I’m not. I don’t know if I should take charge and make a plan or just roll with where we’re at. I don’t know if we walked right into another trap or if we’re really safe. I don’t know why we’re special. I don’t know anything about Teresa. I don’t know why I care about you so much. I don’t know anything anymore. Do you want the rest of the list?_

He swallows tightly, fingernails digging into his palms. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

A precarious quiet settles between them as Thomas turns off the showerhead. He leans back against the tiled wall, staring at the door that divides them with a hollowness in his sternum.

“Thomas…” Newt trails off, a multitude of unsaid words left in the air. Thomas doesn’t know how to decipher them.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” he repeats hoarsely.

There’s a heavy sigh from Newt and a painfully long moment later, the door opens and closes with a thud.

Thomas closes his eyes and silently thanks whoever’s listening that Newt wasn’t taken in their struggle to escape. Ever since he arrived in the Glade, Newt has been his grounding force, providing a balance to his impulsive and usually suicidal theories and plans. He honestly doesn’t know where he’d be without him, and it confuses the hell out of him.

The bonds of trust and friendship are there, just like they are with him and the other Gladers. But there’s also a deeper layer of understanding that Thomas doesn’t have with anyone but Newt. It’s them knowing the other’s next move the moment they make eye contact. It’s Newt making him a Runner to get Gally off his back because that’s what needed to be done. It’s Thomas always referring back to him, waiting for his affirmation even – especially – when their lives are on the line. It’s Newt trusting him to get them where they need to go. It’s a million little things that all mesh together to create a pull at his gut, telling him to go out there and just _be_ with Newt. 

And then it all slides into place with a _click,_ a revelation that makes him open his eyes in disbelief. He actually knows what he needs to do now. He may not be able to fix everything and save everyone, but his heart tells him the best thing to do is take the future one step at a time. And the first step was standing in the room just two minutes ago.

He flings open the shower door and goes through the motions of toweling off and changing into the clean clothes left by someone or other. Then he’s faced with the heavy metal door separating him from the waiting room, from his friends. From Newt. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he swings it open and steps through.

His eyes find Newt’s instantly and he heads straight for him, ignoring everyone else’s curious gazes. Newt, startled at having Thomas’ intensity turned on him so suddenly, gets to his feet, looking at him expectantly.

“Thomas - ?”

Thomas doesn’t falter. He strides right up to Newt, pulls him close by two fistfuls of his shirt, and kisses him.

Newt’s response is immediate and bruising and it takes everything in Thomas to remain standing. He feels an arm wrap around his waist, and some moments later their fierceness melts away to warmth, and finally he pulls back just a fraction to look at Newt and his wide eyes.

“Couldn’t have done that before we almost bloody died?” he breathes, lips twitching. Thomas laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

“I was giving us something to stay alive for.” 

The boys whoop and cheer and Minho lets out a groan. “Seriously guys? I just ate.”

“I told you,” Teresa says smugly. “Didn’t I say they’d take a while to get it together, Winston?”

“Yeah, yeah, you win.”

But when Thomas glances at them, they’re all grinning, clearly glad for some joy in the dark. He turns back to Newt, who’s also smiling – a rare look on him.

Yeah. Definitely a step in the right direction.


End file.
